


youth is never-fleeting

by starlightwalking



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Back to Middle-Earth Month, Elf/Vala Relationship(s), F/M, Manipulative Relationship, Power Imbalance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17970389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starlightwalking/pseuds/starlightwalking
Summary: When Ambarto leaves her, Vána's grief is terrible. Her anger is more so.





	youth is never-fleeting

**Author's Note:**

> For Back to Middle-earth Month 2019! My bingo squares for 3/1 were Amrod/Vána from the Crack Ships card and "Innocent" from the Archetypes card. I twisted the last one a bit to make it work but I like how it turned out.  
> Warning: Not a very flattering portrayal of the Valar. I've never really written about them and I don't know if this is my general opinion of them, but it was very interesting to explore in this little fic.

Vána begs him not to go. She begs him to stay here, in Aman, with her. She begs him to resist his father's anger and blasphemy, and remain true to her. And yet, he strays from her grace anyway.

Vána's grief is terrible. She turns to her sister for condolence, but Yavanna is absorbed in mourning for her Trees. She turns to her husband for distraction, but Oromë is livid at the desertion of his favorite disciple and his favorite hound.

Vána is graceful, Vána is joyful, Vána is Ever-young. She found grace Ambarto: his stumbling twin fell behind in the dances of the Valier, but he twirled in her arms delightfully. She found joy in Ambarto: he laughed easily, paid her more attention than her husband, ever-consumed by his endless Hunt. She found youth in Ambarto: he is Telufinwë, youngest of Fëanor's seven sons; he is fated and Vala-touched, but  _young_  above all.

His vigor cannot fade, for the Eldar do not perish. Youth is eternal in Aman, never-fleeting, and his youth shall last all the longer in her arms.

Until he  _leaves_  her.

Ambarto is her favorite disciple, and yet he abandons her. Had the flowers she braided into his hair wilted? Were her dances not exciting enough? Had his father's sacrilege tainted him? Vána believed she had purified him of such Noldoran sinfulness, but Ambarto leaves her anyway!

Vána's grief is terrible. Her anger is more so.

Disciples of every Vala turned their backs on the blessings of Aman and marched to the shores of Aman, but none are so wounded as Vána. Oromë has lost his captain, Tyelkormo; Aulë's smiths, the Curufinwës, led the rebellion; Nessa weeps at the flight of her light-footed Itarillë. Vána finds no comfort in their company:  _she_  has lost Ambarto, the youth who slept by her side when her husband was gone. She took him for her own, made him consort of a Vala, and this is how he repays her!

Vána is youthful, but heartbreak has never been part of her youth. She is learning to be betrayed, to be deceived, to be abandoned. She is the Innocent, he the Traitor. She is learning that youth is not comprised of only beauty and passion.

Vána will not make this mistake again. No, the next youth she turns her eye to will not take possession of her heart. She will take theirs, but there will be no exchange. She is a mighty Vala like her brothers and sisters, and no Elda will tarnish her glory a second time.

Ambarto is the first to fall in Beleriand. She hears it from Námo, whose grave Doom spelled his fate since the moment of his birth. He is killed by his father, burned alive in the boats that carried him away from her. Vána laughs, but there is no joy in it. The Traitor, betrayed!

Vána visits in him in the Halls of Mandos. His spirit is scarred, grown old in his death. He weeps at her feet, but she watches him without pity.

"I should never have left you, my lady," he cries. He is ugly, broken: a hideous thing. Had she not already forsworn her blessing, she would flinch from him now.

"Yes. You should not have." Vána lowers her lashes, unable to behold his brittle form. "Umbarto, you are called. I offered you a chance for a better fate in my arms, in my bed, but you valued my promises little. You chose your father and your Doom."

"I love you, my lady!" Ambarto sobs. She glances at him, then shudders. His eyes betray his age and unholiness. He is unlike her now.

"As you should," Vána says, but she turns away. "I cannot love you."

"My lady!" Ambarto calls after her, crawling in the bed of flowers she leaves behind her steps, but Vána does not acknowledge him. He deserves his fate, bound by the Oath of his father until the end of days, no longer young.  _She_  is the innocent one, the one betrayed, and her youth will extend beyond the light of the Trees and of the sun.

Vána leaves him, ancient and despairing, and searches for another pretty youth to serve her desires.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting!  
> You can find me on tumblr [@arofili](http://arofili.tumblr.com/).


End file.
